


Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

by MissInComplete



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse - subjective, Arguing, Dont like dark please dont read, Drunk Molly, Drunk Mycroft, Drunken Kissing, Drunken fight, F/M, Fighting, Jealous, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Mollcroft, Molly and Mycroft fight, Rough Kissing, Whiskey - Freeform, angry, force, hopeless, jealous!Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 16:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9279089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissInComplete/pseuds/MissInComplete
Summary: Please  check the tag's before reading - it's a dark fic and there's some drunken fighting and things that might make readers uncomfortable.Mycroft and Molly have been a couple for a while but they can't seem to talk about anything. A misunderstanding at the Christmas Party leads to Mycroft storming out and the pair having a rough time dealing with drunken love.After the fight Molly needs to get away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Slow Dancing in a Burning Room**

A/N Another song inspired fic - MollCroft of course! An established relationship is hitting rocking waters. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room by John Mayer. 

Heads up - possibly triggers! Its  _ heated _ , you’ve been warned. 

* * *

It had started at the Baker Street Christmas Party, the first Mycroft had attended and probably the last at this rate, and it had caused them to say their goodbyes at the peak of the night and return home because Mycroft had stormed out and said he would wait in the car until she  _ had had her fill  _ and ready to leave. The awkward silence that had followed and the tight lipped smiles in her direction meant she left shortly after, holding back tears as she hugged John and kissed Sherlock’s cheek. She glanced at the tumbler he’d been holding which had ceremoniously been dropped to the floor - empty? Was that his 3rd? Maybe his temper is why he didn’t drink often. 

“It’ll be alright, Mol’.” John mumbled into her hair as he squeezed her, “Text us when you’re home, yeah? Let us know you’re alright.” He wiped a tear from her cheek and kissed her head. She sniffed, knocked back what was left of her drink and gave a quick nod dashing out of the door. Sherlock’s face was still tight as he tried to process the irrational little display as he wandered into the kitchen and John went to try to find Lestrade an ice pack. 

Molly stood by the fireplace now back at Mycroft’s house, her face all red and tear tracks down her face. Her arms were wrapped tight around herself now as she refused to meet his eyes, she wasn’t upset as such anymore. She was angry. But often, she had found, angry and upset looked and acted strangely similar.   
  
  


The evening had started out beautifully, after a lot of persuading on her part she had managed to get Mycroft to agree to come to the Baker Street party with her even if it was just for a few hours. Despite his resentment of sentiment getting the better of him, he agreed to make her  _ happy _ and didn’t complain, too much, while they got ready. When she’d meet him in the hallway after grooming he had been a true gentleman and dare she say romantic.   
“You look radiant and dazzling, my dear.” He took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “If I had of known this party would bring out such a delectable side of you I would have agreed sooner.” She blushed and couldn’t stop herself from grinning like a silly school girl as he helped her with her jacket and placed a possessive hand on her hip. The bottle of wine they had shared while soaking in the bath had gave them both a pleasant warmth in the stomach and across their cheeks. 

 

**_It's not a silly little moment_ **

**_It's not the storm before the calm_ **

**_This is the deep and dyin' breath of_ **

**_This love we've been workin' on_ **

 

“Mycroft, I want to go home.” She whispered tightly.   
He had stood by the large door that entered his living room since the argument had reached home. He couldn’t fathom what had got her in such a state - as far as he was concerned he had merely stuck to the social etiquette expected of males in that situation. He shook his head lightly, he couldn’t think properly. He’d listened to her vent her frustration but to hell was he going to let that scene occur while he was there, right in front of his eyes! She’s lucky he didn't have that man- Molly had gone to pass by him through the door. Mycroft put his umbrella in the way and he saw her shoulders droop. She closed her eyes and muttered, “Mycroft.. I’m going home.”   
He drew himself closer to her to block her path and stood in the middle of the doorway. “Molly, you’re being unreasonable.” He reached to lift her chin to meet his gaze but she snapped her head away and hissed, “Don’t touch me. Just, let me leave.”  
He stood again without moving, frowning at her. He just couldn’t compute what was happening - how could she be so angry? He should be angry and he’s tolerating her ridiculous emotional display without so much as a retort. He could feel his head pounding.. “Mycroft. Move please.” She tried to move passed him again but his bulk against her small frame, well, it wasn’t ever going to work. “Mycroft!” She raised her voice now. “Let. me. leave-!”

“And how will leaving help Molly?!” He snapped. “You’re being irrational! If you had handle this properly we wouldn’t be bickering like children now.” His chest was puffed out and his frown deep. When had Molly ever come over so illogical? She met his eyes but her face wasn’t defiant or furious, it was defeated and, dare he say it, she looked heart broken. That look broke his resolve a little and he reached out to hold her.

**_Can't seem to hold you like I want to_ **

**_So I can feel you in my arms_ **

**_Nobody's gonna come and save you_ **

**_We pulled too many false alarms_ **

 

He held her for a moment and felt she wasn't reciprocating or relaxing. Her shoulders were still set tight and her face still pinched. When hadn’t holding her been enough to get her to relax and talk? Mycroft let his arms fall loose around her and waited. 

“Have you finished?” She asked coldly.

He removed his arms completely, “Finished? Molly, you’re the one that likes to  _ cuddle _ ,” Cuddle came out like he was spitting poison. “I can’t help if such an primitive display usually comforts you.”

She scoffed and snapped, “Oh, you don't like me touching you? So I’ve never woken up with you wrapped around me like an huge octopus?” How could he be so cold?! “Just- Leave me alone Mycroft!” Molly made for the door again and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. She smacked his hand away. “Mycroft, just get off!” It was no use though, he had her wrist in a second and pulled her into him tightly. “Let me go!” She brought her hand back and when her hand met his cheek and resounding smack. In an instant he had both her wrists trapped and backed her up against the wall. He wasn’t speaking while she made angry grunts trying to free herself. In one last attempted she brought her knee up to meet up his jewels but he was too quick and somehow now had his knee firmly between her legs, lifted slightly, pinning her in place. 

Nothing was once she stopped struggling, just tears rolling down her cheeks and both their chests heaving.   
  


**_We're goin' down_ **

**_And you can see it too_ **

**_We're goin' down_ **

**_And you know that we're doomed_ **

**_My dear_ **

**_We're slow dancing in a burnin' room_ **

 

Once he’d caught his breath he raised his head to look at her. Her hair and dress esque and her makeup had smudged. He couldn’t stop his pounding heart as he took her in and his drink-addled brain decided she had never looked more sexy pinned against the wall. 

He brought his mouth crashing down on hers and seeked a way into her mouth, when she responded in such fevered passion he loosened his grip and her hands found their way into his hair. This wasn’t the first argument that had ended like this, one might even call it a pattern. 

She started shoving his blazer off his shoulders and he unceremoniously dropped it to the floor, his hips pushed against her’s still holding her in place as she tugged at his shirt tails and removed his waist coat. Their mouths still attached, his hands now came to her thighs and made their way up, lifting the dress up to her hips. 

“Stop.” She sobbed, “We can’t keep doing this.” 

He broke the kiss and and closed his eyes. Neither moved from the heat of the other, but tears began to fall down Molly’s face again. How did their relationship became so toxic? 

He rested his head against the cool wall and stayed there, “Molly, just go.” Her sobs became more evident as she slid to the floor and he felt his chest tighten, “Now, Molly.” He gathered his blazer and pulled out his phone. “The car will be round in a moment. Leave.” His expression cold as he watched her sob into her hands. This was it, he wouldn't play their game any longer. Cut it off. Cold Turkey.

“Is this it then?” She heaved, “Your jealousy is calling it a day for good?” She rose to her feet, trying to compose herself. The mouse pathologist he once met many years ago wasn’t there anymore. 

He cleared his throat, “Given the evidence, this is for the best.” He’d smoothed his hair. 

“How can you just throw this away?! How could you be so heartless?” Each word punctuated with a poke to the chest. “You mean everything to me and you don’t want to work through this- you want to throw it away like it was nothing?!” A choked sob escaped her.

**_I was the one you always dreamed of_ **

**_You were the one I tried to draw_ **

**_How dare you say it's nothing to me_ **

**_Baby, you're the only light I ever saw_ **

**_I'll make the most of all the sadness_ **

**_You'll be a bitch because you can_ **

**_You try to hit me, just hurt me_ **

 

“Don’t you dare,” Came a dangerous whisper as he grabbed her wrist once more, “make out like i'm the one who is  _ not  _ invested in this relationship Molly Hooper. Don’t you dare! I have given you everything,  _ everything,  _ you could have ever wanted, ever asked for. You are the one leading men stray!”

“Leading men astray?! You make it sound as if I’ve a temptress leading men on left, right and centre! And this started out as a mutually beneficial arrangement Mycroft Holmes! Any changes have been instigated by you! People  _ grow  _ in relationships, they compromise and adapt! I wouldn’t ask you to change for the world!” 

“OH really?! Wouldn’t like me to be more like a certain Detective Inspector? I could drop my IQ and start speaking like a local. Hell if he really does it for you I could dye my hair grey and start smelling like an ash tray!”

“Mycroft, Greg is just a friend! You know that! It’s your stupid drunk pigheadedness that's confusing you!”

“He made a pass at you and you laughed it off! Like we hadn’t arrived  _ together _ , like I wasn’t even in the room!” They were both shouting now, passion and confusion and a heaped dose of toxic love spewing out at all angles. 

“Why would you being in the room make any difference?! Do you not trust me?! Do you think the second you’re busy Im off scouting for company?!” 

“You should have thrown him off!”

“WHAT?! I WAS STANDING UNDER THE MISTLETOE!” 

“Mistletoe is a kiss on the cheek - it doesn't invite hands or tongues and don't think i hadn't noticed!  YOU’D KISSED EVERY MAN IN THE ROOM!” 

**_So you leave me feeling dirty_ **

**_'Cause you can't understand_ **

**_We're goin' down_ **

**_And you can see it too_ **

**_We're goin' down_ **

**_And you know that we're doomed_ **

**_My dear_ **

**_We're slow dancing in a burnin' room_ **

 

“What are you implying?! That I’d stood there all night just so I could instigate a christmas orgy with the Holmes boys and their men? Mrs Hudson would have had a great time i'm sure!” 

“Don’t make this into a joke! You should have moved Molly!!” 

“Maybe I was waiting for my partner to come over and take advantage of the situation!”

“Take advantage is what I’d like to think that Lestrade was doing but you didn't seem all that put out! In fact you did all but unzip his-” 

Molly swung to slap him once more and this time he let her. His head stayed to the side where it had landed and he closed his eyes. 

He didn't see her leave, he just head the clip of her shoes and the slam of the door. 

**_Go cry about it, why don't you_ **

**_Go cry about it, why don't you_ **

**_Go cry about it, why don't you_ **

**_My dear, we're slow dancin' in a burnin' room_ **

**_Burnin' room, burnin' room_ **

 

He stood there, slowly raising his hand to his jaw. Usually they’d come to sex by now and the issue had disappeared; he had no idea how this part went. He eyes searched the small scene and he took himself over to the drinks cabinet. One more couldn't possibly make the situation much worse now could it? He tipped a double into his glass and took it in one.   
How could she not see that her behaviour tonight was uncouth and inappropriate?   
Mycroft's head hurt. He poured another. He contemplated just going up to bed and sorting the matter in the morning but His Molly wouldn’t be up there.   
Maybe he should go after her? No, he wasn’t in any state to try understand her or rationalise the evening, he’d make it worse… if that was at all possible.  
He growled in frustration and flung the glass into the open fire, watching the flames jump up, he sank in his seat and held his head. 

A moment late he heard a noise behind him at the window and turned, his heart leapt a little at the thought that maybe Molly had tried to come back but no, it was just Sherlock. He opened the window and climbed in effortlessly. Neither Holmes boy said anything, they didn’t need to, everything that had passed between him and Molly in this room Mycroft was sure Sherlock knew. He walked a little closer and watched his brother’s face cloud over. He had no idea what to say if he had thought he had to say anything at all.    
It's hopeless. They were doomed, no matter how much he wanted it to work, they were doomed. 

 

**_Don't you think we outta know by now?_ **

**_Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?_ **

**_Don't you think we outta know by now?_ **

**_Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?_ **

Molly clambered into the back of the long black car and held back a sob as she asked the driver to head to her flat. The car pulled away and she didn’t bother to check if Mycroft had followed her out. The Great Mycroft Holmes wouldn’t lower himself to chase anyone she thought bitterly. She was just fooling herself to think that they had something worth saving. Tears sprang from her eyes once more and she dialed John’s number. 

“Molly!-” She interrupted with a loud sob, “Molly, are you hurt? Where are you, I’ll come to you.” 

“It’s over.”

**_Don't you think we outta know by now?_ **

**_Don't you think we shoulda learned somehow?_ **


	2. Details in the Fabric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N Part 2 of Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.
> 
> I had several requests to continue the fic and bring it to a lighter close.
> 
> Song inspiration was  ‘Jason Mraz - Details in the Fabric.’

**Details in the Fabric**

 

* * *

 

**_Calm down  
_ ** **_Deep breaths  
_ ** **_And get yourself dressed instead  
_ ** **_Of running around  
_ ** **_And pulling on your threads  
_ ** ****_And breaking yourself up_

No one had seen Molly in over a week. John had dropped by her flat but she refused to open the door and Sherlock had sent several texts trying to get her to call her impromptu holiday from work short because he need parts from the morgue, and oh yes, he wanted to make sure she was okay. She’d not replied to most of them, and the ones she did reply to were curt and to the point.  
So they knew she was alive and hadn’t done anything stupid. They also knew she was in her flat so she was safe. The way they saw it was there wasn’t much else they could do besides wait her out and keep popping back to check on her.

_ That night she’d left Mycroft’s she’d gone straight back to the Christmas Party to find John. If anyone could help her understand what had just happened with the elder Holmes it was him. Well, probably Sherlock but his attitude wasn’t something she could deal with right now, she needed warmth. She could get cold hard facts later if she was feeling up to it. As it happens though when she finally arrived back at Baker, Sherlock wasn’t there. The party had all but finished when their little domestic had broken out; after having to clean Greg up and send to John’s room to sleep off his head ache and Mycroft and Molly leaving, and then with Sherlock leaving shortly after, well.. There wasn’t much of a party left. Mrs Hudson helped clean up the glasses and set the room right and then she gave John a small smile and a peck on the cheek before going down to her flat. Molly and John stood in the living room for what felt like hours while he gave her a hug and whispered small reassuring things to her.   
_ _ If only she could bring herself to fall for John instead. Good, steady John. Shame she only really had a thing for sociopaths and control freaks.  _

_ Once she’d settled down and managed to stop the tears John lead her into the kitchen and made her a cup of english cure, tea that is. He held her hand as she regaled the latest episode in the Molly and Mycroft saga, she left out a few of the more intimate details but concluded that the chauvinistic brute had lost his cool because he had a drink and he was a jealous sod.  _

_ “John, just how can we make it work if he can’t trust me?” She sniffed and he handed her one of the tissues he’d sorted out from the random third kitchen drawer to the left. She wiped her face, “He’d say, if he wasn’t so wound up, that it wasn’t a trust issue, that he just wants to keep me safe, but Christ John! It was mistletoe and Greg.” _

_ He gave her hand a squeeze and half smiled, “He’s not like normal guys, Mol’. But, to be honest, and this isn’t me excusing him here, any guy might have blown up a little at Greg - he really did take it too far, drunk or not.” _

_ “I could of handled it though, and it's not like Greg throwing himself at me like that made me go ‘oh that's a good idea! Let's drop Mycroft for a drunken fumble with a Detective!’  And then when we got back he blamed me! He was mad at me!” _

_ “Male pride there - even the Holmes, in fact especially the Holmes boys are guilty of that… He defended what was his and instead of being praised he was scolded.” John sipped his tea and watched Molly narrow her eyes at her own, “I’m not saying it’s right, I’m not saying what happened next is either. I’m just explaining that Mycroft and Sherlock, they’re both guilty of forgetting their human and when things like this come up, well, they just sorta, flail?” _

_ She didn’t respond for some time. She clutched her mug and John sat stroking her hand while she mulled it all over. Just then a noise had them both glancing through the kitchen door and down the hallway. Greg wandered in holding his head and his jacket draped over his arm. _

_ “Christ mate, do you got any paracetamol? I’m a wreck.” He spotted Molly at tablet, who ducked her head. He swallowed and ran his tongue around the inside of his cheek. “Listen, Mol’, I’m sorry- about early I mean. I, wasn’t thinking an’...” He sighed and she sniffed, and brought her head up ever so slightly. “If Mycroft’s gave you any grief over it all I’ll talk to him, I was outta line.”  _

_ “No,” She said a little too quickly, but that's exactly what this situation didn't need right now -Mycroft knows how to hide a body. “It’s alright Greg, it was just a misunderstanding that's all.” _

_ Greg opened his mouth to reply but seemed to think better of what he was about to say and muttered, “Yeah.. a misunderstanding.” John handed him the tablets and Greg told them he’d sort a taxi out once he’d cleared his head and left.  _

_ “So, I wasn’t going to point this out early but seeing as…. Molly, Greg came on real strong while your boyfriend,” She cringed, “Fine, lover, partner, whatever. Watched. And because he was drunk you’ve dismissed it… because he was drunk, right?” She gave a slight nod and he continued, “So What's the difference when it comes to Mycroft? He was blotto and lost his temper when his girlfriend -ah yes, girlfriend was assaulted by a drunken friend…” _

_ “It's the way it was handled John, Greg didn’t try to justify his behaviour or say I’d brought it on myself. He apologised and accepted it for what it was, a drunken mistake, but Mycroft… John, he was cruel.” John squeezed her hand again. “Okay Mol’ its okay.”  _

**_If it's a broken part, replace it  
_ ** **_If it's a broken arm, then brace it  
_ ** ****_If it's a broken heart, then face it_

Molly now sat on her sofa, stroking Toby idly as he slept on her lap. She’d not really functioned in over a week. Showered and then put her Pj’s back on was all she’d managed - thank god for ordering groceries online because Toby wouldn’t have appreciated her self imprisonment otherwise. She’d ordered in most nights and not eaten most days. She’d been on social media but ignored all attempts at contact. She’d rang work claiming she was sick and booked last minute annual leave to cover it - another two weeks roughly before she  _ had  _ to go back to the outside world. 

She’d been dumped  in the past, though she’d had a spectacularly bland life, so she knew what breakups were and what usually happened and how sometimes one side can be a mess while the other functions like nothing has happened or they can chase each other and make the splitting up hard or they slowly but surely stop checking in with each other so it doesn’t come as a surprise. And having been in an on-off relationship with Mycroft for almost two years she thought she knew how this would play out this time; being his fault and all.   
Usually, she’d receive a barrage of phone calls or texts to ensure she had gotten home okay and he’d inform he’d give her a few days space. Then, a few days later, he would send flowers to her wherever she happened to be and then she’d call him and arrange to talk. ‘Talk’ had actually became another word for ‘Ignore the cause of the issue and have sex’ but the next day everything would be as it was and they’d carry on as normal. 

But not this time. Not so much as a tweet from him. When he didn’t follow her out the door she knew it was bad but no follow up contact… Well, her heart ached. She knew deep down that it was a mess and the way it was going was never going to lead to a healthy developed relationship if things didn't change but for the first time in her life Molly had thrown caution to the wind and decide to try out the unpredictable and messy relationship she would normally have given a wide birth too, and boy was she kicking herself now. She had never known hurt like it. How can someone fall so in love with something that is so bad for them? It it some psychological issue of self worth? Or maybe a self destructive streak? Lord knows if she’d ever figure it out but she knew right now if he called her she’d probably answer. Even if it was another argument at least she’d still feel like she had him.  

She needed to get away. She needed time to clear her head and decide what she could do with this situation.  

**_Hold your own  
_ ** **_Know your name  
_ ** **_And go your own way  
_ ** ****_And everything will be fine_

Mycroft liked to keep dips on everything and everyone and that extended heavily to things he considered  _ his.  _ His brother, for example,  was under constant surveillance. Nothing so as it would prevent Sherlock from doing what he pleased but enough that Mycroft knew his every move and where to find him whenever he wished. And this eventually covered Molly too, so now she knew that her flat was probably bugged - at least the windows and doors. And that an agent was usually following her from a safe distance to and from work, if Mycroft hadn’t sent the car or she was meeting friends. She wondered if this was still employed even now? Had he been checking out for her, had he got an agent constantly positioned by her door to make sure she didn't leave without him knowing? Maybe Sherlock was keeping him informed too - though she doubted that, causing Mycroft grief was a favourite pass time for him. 

With all this in mind Molly tried to devise away to leave London for a bit, just a short break away from everything and cameras, and jealous boyfriends and try to get some fresh air without Mycroft keeping dibs on her. If he was, that is. 

She sent Mary a text and asked her to send a parcel to her, first class and explained she wanted a break but without being followed. It would have been easier to ask her to drop it in person but the second anyone saw Mary at her house Mycroft would put 2 and 2 together and land all the planes in England just so as to catch up with her. 

_ ‘I can get the parcel to you - I’m letting the boys know you’re alright though and just taking a holiday. You’ve borrowed a few bikinis. MW x’ _

_ ‘Thanks Mary x but I’d rather Mycroft didn’t know… MH x _

_ ‘Honey, if he knows it’ll be because your phone is bugged - Sherlock will hold this until the perfect moment i'm sure. MW x’ _

Molly paused. She hadn’t thought of that! She closed her eyes and shook her head. Well it's too late now to retract any of this, but this is all going on the fact he’s monitoring her and if he isn’t well, then that's great. 

 

A few hours later Molly came out of the shower to find a parcel resting on her bed with a note on top saying simply ‘’M x’. 

God knows how Mary managed it but she couldn’t have been more excited! With that she spent the next few hours packing her suitcase - enough for a week without a washer she imagined. She popped open the box and found in there 2 passports, both with brown hair and a mousey likeness, and an array of wigs. She frowned just as a text came through;

‘ _ In order to go away you need to leave the flat ;) MW x’ _

Molly laughed to herself and picked up the curly grey wig - Mary thought of everything. 

**_Hang on  
_ ** **_Help is on the way  
_ ** **_And stay strong  
_ ** ****_I'm doing everything_

_ ‘I’ve got here fine. See you in a week x MH x’ _

_ ‘Thanks for letting us know, wasn’t sure you’d make it - flights have been cancelled. Hope the break does you good! Will we ever know where you’ve gone? :) John x’ _

_ ‘One day maybe? ;) Thank Mary for her bikinis too! MH x’ _

Molly was sat on a bench at the top of the hill next the quaint Church of Saint Mary. She looked over the ocean and over the small town and took a deep breath. Mycroft may have been able to stop planes but she didn’t need a plane to go to Whitby, she smiled. She felt a little pang of guilt when she considered that she’d lead Mary, John and Sherlock to believing she was off abroad when reality she had just headed north. But, it made no real difference she supposed, it did just mean that any interference they  _ may  _ have come up has been mitigated nicely. 

The wind whipped round and she pulled her coat and scarf tighter to her body. Though the sun was out, winter winds were definitely ever present. She had chosen to stay in a hostel, a youth hostel just behind the Abbey, she thought the more low key she stays the harder again it would be to trace her and in the end she did use Mary’s passport. For the duration of the trip she was Mrs Ashworth and a friend had paid for her holiday as a Christmas present, not that the hostel minded who paid as long as she did. While she wandered through Whitby town she mulled over what everyone would be up to - by now Mycroft knew that she had disappeared from her flat and she wondered how close he had come to locating her. 

* * *

Mycroft could kill someone. Not the assassination sort of way, but in the bare hands around someone's neck sort of way. A week it had been since he and Molly had broken up and a week in which he hadn’t slept well, hadn’t eaten much and hadn’t stopped working. He’d kept tabs on her flat and knew she hadn’t moved for days but he had reports that food had been delivered to her home. Sherlock, despite his tendency to aggravate his brother, had been surprisingly supportive- no that wasn’t quite the right word, he’d made digs and been tactless constantly but he had made sure he was constantly around to do it. Sherlock had turned up at Mycroft's home and work randomly and kept him busy, annoyed or both. The younger Holmes had also kept him relatively up to date with any new information about Molly if and when he or John got any. Mycroft never responded when he did it but he catalogued it away and marked the information under ‘safe and well.’

So when the news came that two days ago Molly had asked for one of Mary’s bikinis Mycroft fumed. “Two days? Sherlock, you’ve known for two days that Molly might be leaving the country, incognito no less, and you’ve failed to mention it?!” 

Sherlock’s eyebrows went up, “She isn’t a child, brother mine. She is entitled to a random break away from London, the UK.. you.” Mycroft’s jaw tensed and nostrils flared, “And, surely, with such a  _ thorough  _ watch you’d have seen her leaving with a suitcase and monitored her from there?” But by this point Mycroft had stopped listening, he was tapping away at his phone and then his keyboard, the phone rang and he merely picked up and listened. Sherlock could hear Anthea stating no one matching Molly’s description had left the flats and her passport hadn’t been flagged at any airports, but one scan of the building from a well placed window cleaner had just told her that her flat was empty and Toby was two doors down with an elderly neighbour.  “And who said incognito?” 

Mycroft gave him a withered look, “If Molly has asked Mary for help, which she has and she has managed to leave the flat without my knowledge, which she has, then no doubt she has had substantial preparation for this and will have used one Mary’s passports or resources to get a new passport.” He rubbed his temples for a moment and rested his head in his hands. 

“Brother dear, why do you care? I thought it was over-”

“It  _ is  _ over-”

“Then Molly taking a break isn’t a big deal and you have no say in it. You’re overreacting, as usual, and this is exactly the reason she left you.” Sherlock offered nonchalantly from his position of the office chair opposite Mycroft’s desk. “Besides, she’s alone, so no reason to be jealous.”

Big Brother’s head shot up, “Where is she?”

“What?”

“You said she’s alone, not that she’s probably alone or you assume she’s alone. You know where she is Sherlock. Tell me, now. This isn’t a game!” The vein on Mycroft’s temple throbbed and his breathing was heavy as Sherlock looked him over.

“I do know where she was headed. But I shan't tell you.” With that Mycroft picked up the phone and snapped at Anthea, “Land the planes.” “All of them!” “I don’t care how, or what excuse you use just get it done. Let me know if you find her.” Sherlock laughed and smirked from his seat, oh how droll he found the whole thing. His poor brother being put through his paces by a tiny pathologist. 

 

**_Are the details in the fabric  
_ ** **_Are the things that make you panic  
_ ** **_Are your thoughts results of static cling?  
_ ** **_Are the things that make you blow  
_ ** **_Hell, no reason, go on and scream  
_ ** **_If you're shocked it's just the fault  
_ ** ****_Of faulty manufacturing._

“Sherlock, if you do not know for a  _ fact _ that Molly Hooper is safe and well then I suggest you leave this office very quickly and go make sure of.” He ground it out through gritted teeth. If he couldn’t keep his eye on her at this very second and his oh so wonderful baby brother was doing his best to keep it from him then the least he could do is to ensure, personally, that she was okay. 

His brother regarded him for a few moments, a neutral expression on his face. “I’ll keep you posted.” And he left with a wink. Mycroft blew out all the air in his lungs and gritted his teeth, God help Sherlock if anything has happened to her. The bane of his existence popped his head back in the door, “Oh, and get those planes moving again. Ciao!” 

Anthea had the planes moving again in record time and decided to head into the office to check on Mycroft and his sanity. “Sir?”

“Have Sherlock followed.” He didn’t look up from his papers.

“Already done, Sir. As always. Also, you’ll be receiving a phone call shortly - the PM and his band of nitwits want an official reason as to why all aircrafts were being told to land just now.” 

He glanced up at that and sighed, an eyebrow quirked up, “Intel on fake passports being used for travel, concern for national security and you know the rest of how that goes.” He waved his hand limply as if to cast the problem aside. “I want constant updates on where Sherlock has headed if he leaves London.”

“Danger night, sir?” Anthea tapped into her BlackBerry

“No.” He paused, “He knows where Miss Hooper is and is going to check on her.” He continued to tap on his laptop as she lifted her eyes from her phone. 

“Very good, sir.” She eyed him for a sign of mood but he had completely clamped down. “Your next meeting starts in 10 minutes.” They both made their way out of the office and into the board meeting with the PM and his team. Mycroft gracefully navigated the conversation with ease, explaining that his choices were in the best interest of the country and any delays or disruptions were entirely necessary. A shark smile accompanied his explanation and no one dared challenge it. The meeting moved onto other topics and he offered off hand informed comments while continual checking his phone. “Are we keeping you from something, Mr Holmes?” An elderly member asked snidely, “If you’re too busy-” Anthea’s phone rang and she gave him a small nod.

“As it happens-” He stood and nodded to the PM, “Apologies my good fellows, a rather delicate matter has come to light, Anthea will rearrange the meeting for any topics that can not be addressed without me.” And with that they were off through the door.

“If you don’t mind me saying Sir, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do when you get this matter resolved.” She had glanced back and saw the PM shaking his head.

“If this goes well Anthea I will be hard pressed to care.” He mumbled under his breath as he climbed into the car.

When they reached the airfield he climbed into the helicopter and put on his head set and was surprised to see Sherlock climbing in after him. “Hello Brother mine! This will be much quicker! Destination: Whitby!”

Mycroft glared at his brother but was thankful that he finally had a location, “I thought it was supposed to be a secret?” He scoffed.

“It still is, I suppose. She doesn’t know I know where she is, and she certainly doesn’t know you know where she is. So there’s a secret there somewhere.” Sherlock gave a wide smile and settled back for the flight. 

**_Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)  
_ ** **_Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)  
_ ** ****_Is it Mother Nature's sewing machine?_

Molly was sitting inside the church reading a book, hidden away at the back enjoying the peace and quiet of the small building. She turned a page and snuggled deeper into her coat and sighed. This is exactly what she needed. After a few more pages she became aware of a low hum coming from outside, like a low aircraft. Nothing unusual there really, some had flown overhead in the past few days. But this one sounded a lot closer like it was landing rather than going on. She placed a bookmark she had purchased from the desk inside the book and made her way to the doors. 

To her surprise a helicopter was landing on the beach in the distance. She watched a little longer, enjoying the cold sun and saw figures emerging. After a pause she screwed her eyes up and looked closer - oh she’d know that coat anywhere! God damn it, Sherlock! 

Well that break was over a lot sooner than she’d planned for! She growled in frustration and head back the hostel. It would only be a matter of time before he deduced where she was hiding,  _ staying _ . 

* * *

 

Sherlock ruffled his hair and took off into the town. Anthea and Mycroft kept up with his pace as he muttered deductions to himself. “No ideas Mycroft?” He asked pleasantly after the fifth sigh from his big brother.

“You know as well as I do that given current circumstance your deductions here will possibly be more fruitful than mine. You at least have been in touch with her briefly over the last week and knew she was going away. You probably know exactly why, and that means you’ll be able to deduce where.” Mycroft’s pinched face snapped this words whilst continuously searching crowded spaces for her face. A gleeful Sherlock practically bounded and skipped through the tight streets and then spotted the church on top of the hill. He narrowed his eyes and made for that direction.

Once they reached the Abbey they stood for a moment in the courtyard. Sherlock pulled out a smoke and handed one to Mycroft. “Best make the most of it, she’s not a fan.” Anthea declined after Sherlock pushed one in her direction and pulled out a bunch of mints, placing one in each of their hands. “One for me as well? I don’t think Brother mine likes sharing Miss Hooper, that's what got him in this mess in the first place.” Sherlock took a long drag and raised his eyebrows. 

“For the last and final time Sherlock; it was nothing to do with  _ sharing  _ Molly as you put it, it was Lestrade’s abuse of her good nature.” Mycroft offered. 

“Lestrade was the problem? Last I heard it was Molly who kept  _ offering  _ herself to men. On second thought Anthea, I’ll take one of those mints in a moment.” He winked. 

“Sherlock.” He snapped. “Of course Lestrade was the problem, Molly was caught in the wrong place at the wrong time and… I may have-”

“Over reacted and got your facts wrong because you’re a jealous drunk?” He offered with a smile. 

“In not so many words…” Mycroft raised his eyebrow, “But, yes, I suppose that is the case.”

“And when you find her? I mean, knowing  _ where  _  she was obviously wasn't good enough. You ditched a meeting and called a helicopter for Christ sake.”

“I’ll… apologise.” He raised his eyebrows and exhaled a huge sigh. “I was wrong and I should have handled this whole thing better. When I find her I’ll offer my deepest apologies and hope we can address the issues to prevent this-”

“And if she accepts your apology? Then what? We’ll still have a lot to talk about.” A soft voice came from behind the three from the small archway by the entrance to the Abbey. 

Mycroft looked to Sherlock with a mild look of…  _ something _ and he shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, my dear.” He dropped his cigarette and stamped it out, moving towards Molly with the sincerest look on his face. 

Anthea rolled her eyes behind Mycroft’s back and shook her head at Sherlock - they had both known the whole time that Molly was in earshot. The Holmes boys are such creeps sometimes. “Anthea,” Sherlock interjected her thoughts, “Have you ever seen Whitby Jet?” He offered his arm to her and lead her away from Mycroft and Molly who had made their way towards the hostel. 

‘Sherlock was definitely worse.” Anthea thought as she followed him into town. 

 

**_Everything will be fine_ **

**_Everything in no time at all_ **

**_Hearts will hold_ **

  
  



End file.
